'The border doesn't exist to us': How one Mohawk community balances fears of ICE with its inherent rights

As a mohawk haircut adult male living on the St. St. Lawrence River in eastern Ontario, Arihhonni saint david’s nigh daily routine sees him leave his apartment to cross the U.S. Border to get to his job at a cultural centre in upstate New York.

But lately, that trip is making him increasingly anxious.

The Mohawk community of Akwesasne spans two countries, two provinces and two counties in New York state. But for the Mohawks living in Akwesasne, their territory and their people predate those dividing lines.

“The border doesn’t exist to us,” said David, who, like many in his community, crosses all the time to get groceries and visit family.

Like many others in Akwesasne, David watched last month as U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) crackdowns in Minnesota became increasingly violent and included the detention of three Oglala Sioux Tribe members.

Now, David says he’s been having nightmares over the possibility of encountering an ICE agent himself.

Indeed, the controversial immigration agency has now been authorized to enter one of the two U.S. Counties that Akwesasne straddles, albeit in a limited capacity.

On Feb. 2, legislators in St. Lawrence County passed a resolution allowing ICE officials to train select sheriff’s office staff to use its databases to check if anyone in custody is in the country illegally.

That has David, who writes and illustrates children’s books, reconsidering a number of engagements he has scheduled in the U.S.

David knows his appearance could fit the description an ICE agent might be looking for, and worries that alone could land him behind bars. 

“After everything that's been happening, it's really scary. It's really, really concerning.”

However, the chief of the Saint Regis Mohawk Tribal Police, which patrols Akwesasne territory on the U.S. Side, says it is nearly impossible to compare the events in Minnesota to the possibility of future ICE operations in St. Lawrence County.

“You have to look at comparing apples to oranges,” Matthew Rourke said. “ICE was not here, they haven’t been here.” 

Rourke, who has been on the tribal police force for 30 years and chief for more than a decade, says he knows exactly which agencies are travelling through the community and that part of community policing is being transparent about that. 

Otherwise, Rourke says, "you’re going to have people with anxiety and with fear.”

People in the community were obviously worried enough that the Mohawk Council of Akwesasne (MCA), which governs the Canadian side of the territory, posted a notice on Jan. 15 — days after an ICE agent shot and killed Renée Good in Minneapolis.

“Akwesasne is a sovereign territory with our own police services and law enforcement protocols. Our local authorities are committed to protecting the safety and rights of our people,” wrote the First Nation’s leadership. 

To “reduce stress” while travelling outside the territory, the MCA urged community members to carry status cards and American tribal ID cards and keep emergency contact numbers in their phones.

A few Mohawk people then joined dozens of other New York residents at the St. Lawrence County legislature on Feb. 2 to speak out against any role for ICE in their region.

The legislative board voted 11 to 4 to officially authorize the county sheriff’s office to sign a memorandum of agreement with ICE, although the Department of Homeland Security says that agreement has yet to be signed.

Homeland Security wrote in a statement that ICE has “supercharged efforts with state and local law enforcement” and now has 1,427 agreements across 40 states. 

In late January, New York Governor Kathy Hochul proposed legislation that aims to eliminate these types of agreements in her state altogether.

Leading up to the vote to bring ICE to Akwesasne’s doorstep, however, the chair of the St. Lawrence County’s legislative board underscored the limited role for the agency.

“I don't believe we have any illegal migrants in our county jail, but if it does arise, they will be trained to deal with it,” said David Forsythe.

“I'm not looking to take guys working on a farm and ship them out. I'm looking to get the bad guys out.”

David, however, is rethinking his movements in the United States because he’s unconvinced ICE’s role will remain limited — or that his Mohawk culture and rights will be understood if ever he were to encounter an ICE agent.

For those at Akwesasne, moving around the territory regardless of the international border is both a way of life and an inherent right, said Abram Benedict, the MCA's former grand chief and the Ontario Regional Chief for the Chiefs of Ontario.

The Jay Treaty, signed in 1794 by Great Britain and the U.S, ensures that Indigenous people born in Canada can freely enter the U.S. To travel, study, work, retire and immigrate, although Canada does not formally recognize the treaty.

It’s not even clear for most residents in Akwesasne when they’ve crossed the border.

Outside of Cornwall, Ont. And Rooseveltown, N.Y., the nearly 17-kilometre border is unpatrolled. The international line even cuts through a few houses.

“The line has split families up, which means that you have relations on both sides. You know, as time goes on, you have children born on either side of the border,” said Benedict.

For people in Akwesasne, scrutiny from border officials is nothing new, as smugglers have historically exploited the binational territory, Benedict said.

But while historically this scrutiny has happened in the background, the public nature of ICE operations is increasingly concerning for community members, he said.

“This organization known as ICE may come up to them and ask them for documentation of their residency or where they're born,” said Benedict. “That’s frankly insulting.”

In many operations both along the border and in urban areas, ICE agents have been seen working alongside agents from U.S. Customs and Border Protection.

Many in Akwesasne are dual citizens of Canada and the U.S., and carry both tribal IDs and status cards. David says his mother is anxious, and pushed him and his sister to renew all of their identification documents.

“I carry it whenever I go to and fro, but I don't have a whole lot of trust that it'll actually protect me,” he said.

David does cross at a formal border most days, and says interactions with border and customs agents can feel as familiar as going to a local store. He recognizes some of the longtime officers and refers to them as “lifers.”

But he says issues can arise when he’s questioned by new officers who've just finished their border patrol and immigration training.

“Some of those recruits, they assume that you're 'El Chapo' coming through. They're really suspicious of what you might be carrying in your vehicle,” David said, adding he fears a similar encounter with ICE.

“To think that somebody that is uneducated, full of testosterone, armed, and has a quota to meet for incarcerated citizens [is] terrifying.”

Plus, carrying this documentation isn't always common practice — particularly on routine trips to the local diner or to see family.

“If they catch us there now, then we can’t prove who we are,” said Justin Cree who lives on the New York side and is the director of the Akwesasne Cultural Centre, Museum and Library.

“Without that, they could deport us. And I don’t know where we go from there.”

The U.S. Department of Homeland Security, however, states there have not been ICE operations in tribal lands to date.

“ICE does not target, and will not target, Native Americans or any U.S. Citizens based on appearance, ethnicity, or community affiliation,” the department wrote. “ICE agents recognize tribal identification cards and continue to acknowledge tribal IDs as proper and accepted identification to verify citizenship status.”

Although St. Lawrence County’s sheriff’s office has the authorization to sign an agreement with ICE, it's not yet clear when or if the agency will be training local officers. 

Homeland Security is striving to work with tribal leaders and their tribal law enforcement agencies, the department says.

Rourke says his job as police chief is to keep meeting with the community and to have strong relationships with agencies.

The Saint Regis Tribal Police Force meets regularly with U.S. Customs and Border Protection, Homeland Security, the tribal councils, and others. His force has also provided training and produced a video to build cultural awareness.

In early February, Rourke even had the opportunity to relay his Mohawk community’s anxiety about ICE to the U.S. Government’s border czar, Tom Homan, in person — something he says is a “big deal.”

"With Mr. Homan, it was all about partnerships: 'What can we do? How can we shut down what is happening through this illegal immigration that is coming through here?'"

While there is currently no ICE presence in the Mohawk territory, Rourke says the best way to ensure it stays that way is to keep fighting human trafficking and smuggling — something that’s long been an issue at the border.

"If we control it and have responsibilities with our people and have real time reporting, we can keep those agencies out."

Fears and concerns over potential interactions with ICE agents are being felt not just in Akwesasne, however, but across North America.

In late January, the Okanagan Nation Alliance, the Upper Nicola Band, and Huu-ay-aht First Nations in B.C. Urged members to use extreme caution travelling to the U.S., citing the detention practices of ICE.

Citxw Nlaka’pamux Assembly, also based in B.C., chose not to attend a First Nations conference in Washington state this year.

The Assembly of First Nations has warned First Nations people to be cautious when crossing the border.

The federal Canadian government recently updated its advice, encouraging all First Nations people in Canada to carry a valid passport and machine readable certificate of Indian Status card, also known as a secure status card, when crossing the border. 

Status cards were usually the only document that Indigenous people in Canada require to enter the U.S., though the acceptance of these cards is entirely at the discretion of U.S. Officials. 

Some First Nations are also urging their members to carry blood quantum letters — signed documentation from a registered First Nation showing a person is at least 50 per cent “American Indian.”

Even though Ontario regional chief Benedict finds having to show documentation insulting, he says it’s important for Indigenous people to carry it to minimize the chance of negative interactions. 

“We want to continue to make sure that family relations [and] ceremony continue to happen on both sides of the border,” Benedict said.  

As for David, he says he might be forced to reconsider his work if he starts to notice more ICE agents or increased border patrol.

Still, he and others say no amount of law enforcement pressure will stop members of the Mohawk community from going about their daily routines.

“It is really scary to think about, but we’ve survived a lot,” David said. “We have been through residential schools. We’ve been through the Sixties Scoop. We’ve been through our own troubles with either side of the border. There’s a lot of resilience.”

Journalist

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